Threnody
by theroguesgambit
Summary: Tag to Say the Word. Rick is crumbling, his faith and sanity on the verge of collapse. But a visit from a surprising source might just have the power to drag him back from the edge. -One Shot-


**Threnody**

He barely remembered the time when Glenn had approached him. A distant voice, a collision of shapes and colors blocking his way. _In his way._ And so he had shoved it, had tensed to strike, barely managing to check his instincts screaming to _get it out of the way. Hack it down. Destroy the barrier._

_ Destroy everything._

But it had been familiar, and it had gotten out of his way, so he had spared it. He'd moved on. And he'd found… he had found… had found her…

And now another figure approached. Not one of _them_, not snarling and stumbling, with clawing hands and insatiable hunger bent on devouring anything it could get a grip on. Bone, hair and all.

He was on his feet in a second, wordless warning rising up in his throat. The smooth handle of the blade in his grip just itching to be swung. The figure checked its movement. Lips curled bitterly.

"So this is how it's gonna be. You're just gonna check out?"

The sound of words was repulsive in his brain. He didn't want to _listen_. Didn't want to comprehend. To think. Thinking would lead to memories, and those were unbearable. And listening would mean moving forward. And that was beyond comprehension.

He jerked a step forward, moving uncomfortably within his own skin. Another snarl formed behind bared lips… but the figure refused to retreat.

"What, you wanna be one of _them_ now? Think it's that easy, that you can just flip it off and not care?"

Yes. That's what he wanted. That's why he'd come out here, thrown himself out of the safety of the cell block and into the heart of the beast with nothing more than a machete to guard him. That's why he'd shoved Glenn away. That's why he'd found his way to this room that had become his wife's grave.

He'd thought maybe he would be able to end it.

Now it was the figure's turn to move forward, within weapon's distance, within punching distance, within_ biting_ distance. Leaned in close enough to feel Rick's savage breaths.

"I'll tell you what, though: that's just not gonna happen."

The familiar face hurt his eyes, hurt his mind. He didn't want to think, didn't want to remember. But it was right in close now, dark eyes locked on his, not letting him look away. Not letting him let go. Not letting him stop thinking.

"No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you punch or shout or snarl or kill, you're never gonna be able to just turn it off. Not completely. There's no magic switch on humanity or grief. Or guilt."

But that didn't feel right; the world had taught him otherwise. It was too cruel, took too much, not to offer some way to escape. When it got too overwhelming, when there was no other way out. …There was no surviving this feeling, there was no moving past it. No wiping hands clean, looking to the next task. Dealing. Accepting. Rationalizing.

The eyes were on his and he wanted to claw them out. Rip them apart for being so damn close and soft and _reasonable_. For being such a perfect contrast to the madness within his own mind.

He wanted to beat this figure until his blood mixed with Lori's on the cold floor.

Beyond his rage, the calm voice was still talking.

"Maybe you'll think you can escape it. Maybe you'll keep ahead of it for a while. But it'll get you in the end. _Feeling_. Memories."

He didn't _want_ to remember. He'd made so many mistakes.

"It'll come creeping back, up from inside of you in the middle of the night, biting and clawing and tearing at any little piece of sanity you've got left. Humanity's _in there_, brother. It's not some custom piece you can just opt out of to save you a few bucks in emotional trouble. It'll eat you alive if you let it."

"…Like it ate you?"

The memories were coming back, whether he wanted them or not. The floodgate was open, and the agony was enough to physically cripple him. He stumbled, hit the ground.

And Shane watched him fall.

"Yeah," his friend murmured. "Like it ate me."

_Lori_.

No word could describe what the thought of her did to him. The holes it tore inside… he was shocked he wasn't bleeding. She was…

_Lori._ She'd been his world, been his life. She'd taught him to love, given him a family, given him everything in his life that had ever meant anything. He would have given the world to protect her but he'd spent the last eight months ignoring her and…

He'd just thought there would be more time.

How had he been that stupid? That selfish? How had he allowed all that time to go by, with the world being like it was, refusing to let himself forgive her? Refusing to look at her, to touch her, to engage in anything more than the barest contact to make sure that she'd survive?

How could he not be able to tell whether he'd lost her eight months ago or today?

"I blamed her."

"I know."

There was no fire in the words – no rage, or hurt or desperation. No undercutting, vying for power. In those weeks since the coma, since the world went to hell, had there ever been a moment when the two of them had just _talked?_

"It was easier to blame her. For loving us both. For coming between us. For making me kill you."

"Hey." Shane was crouching over him now, though Rick couldn't guess when he'd moved, hand hovering over his hunched shoulder as if to pat it, to lend support, but came up just short of touching. "You know who made you kill me, Rick. And it wasn't Lori."

"I know that." His eyes slid shut. The world was kinder in darkness. Maybe it would let him stay. "It was me. Being angry at you, being too weak to handle it. Being just… too tired to fight anymore. But it was easier to hate her, to place blame. To make her carry the burden because I wouldn't be able to stand with the weight of it."

"No, hey." It was firmer now, with that familiar fire to it. The kind that meant he was going to argue and Rick was too tired for a fight.

"Don't…" He tried to roll away, but now the voice was on the other side of him. Not letting him escape.

"_Hey._ Don't do that to me, Rick. Don't make this all about you. You weren't responsible for my life, you didn't cause my death. You don't get that kind of credit."

His eyes opened, and Shane was a shadow and a smirk looming over him.

"Stabbed you, didn't I?"

"Was aiming a gun at you, wasn't I?"

It was just too hard. Too hard to fight, too hard to _exist_. Shane couldn't let him rest, even now. But he found he couldn't quite let it go either.

"I could've talked you down. Cooled things off, made it right."

Shane laughed, the sound sharp against the room's stillness.

"Right, look at this: Dr. Rick, fixing all the world's many problems with a single holier-than-thou hand. You should have a talk show."

It _hurt_ to listen.

"Don't…"

"Look, you stabbed me to death, Rick. You owe me at least this little bit of credit. I made the decisions that shaped my own life. _Me._ Even if you talked me down then, you think what… everything just would've gone back to fine? That day or the next day… we would've got down to it, Rick. Because that was _my _choice. Because _I _wanted it to."

Rick's eyes were too dry for tears. His soul'd been long wrung out. His voice escaped with a crack.

"Why?"

"Because the world went to hell, Rick. Because so damn much was lost. It got empty and cold and so much _smaller._ Because my choices, Rick, that's all I had left. There wasn't enough for the two of us to hold onto anymore."

"You could've held onto _me._"

Shane blinked at him, looked away.

"Look, you tried, man. _I _tried. But the second you rose up from the dead we were just two pieces vying for the same life." He trailed off, the fire dying out of him. Looked to the ground, the only part of _her_ that remained. "She was all that held me together, man. Her and Carl. All that kept me sane in all of this… this."

Rick's eyes followed his back to the floor. His hand had fallen into the stain of mostly-dried blood.

"I know what you mean."

It was silent in the room, then, for a long enough time that Rick began to think maybe his friend had left him. Shane had never been one for silences. But Rick could still see him there, out of the corner of his unmoving eyes, sitting down with his back against the far wall. Watching Rick watch the blood between them.

The sun was low outside some distant window when Rick could gather the willpower to speak again.

"When'd you end up so insightful, anyway? That some sort of afterlife perspective thing?"

Shane scoffed faintly. He didn't shift in the corner of Rick's vision.

"Rick… this aint anything new. Didn't take long to realize it had to be you or me. That this family, this group was only gonna be one of two things. It was gonna be my world or it was gonna be your world. Even you knew it, deep down. It's just… hell, that's not really something we could talk about before."

There was another, shorter silence. Lori's blood was shining in the sunset, staining the back of his hand.

"You couldn't go on without her, Shane. You lost her and it…" He throat caught. He'd been wrong in thinking he'd had no more tears in him. "If you couldn't survive losing her, how can I?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force back the onslaught without moving. Without lifting that hand to his face. The hand with her blood.

When he blinked them open again, Shane was inches in front of him, expression hard and determined and blazing with fire.

"You are _not_ giving up, Rick. Because you've never been like me. You've never had nothing, had everything stripped away. You've still got your group. You've still got Carl. You've still got your _daughter_."

He jolted. Before he knew it he was sitting up straight, watching Shane warily at eye level.

"My… daughter?"

He didn't think any part of him had really registered the birth. He had seen the baby, seen Maggie and Carl's faces, seen his wife's absence and had realized what it meant. But the child, itself… he hadn't given it one cursory thought.

Shane's eyes, still on his, were fierce and protective and an echo of every emotion Rick hadn't found it in him to feel.

"Your daughter. _Yours_. Lori's gone and I… I'm where I needed to be. So you're what she's got left. No matter what, right? No matter whose she is… she's yours."

"My daughter…"

His eyes blurred again, as they fought to echo the emotion in Shane's. There was something stirring there, deep inside. Something other than torn up, than wrung out. Than empty.

"Yeah," Shane seemed to smile finally, through the haze of tears and repeated again, "your daughter." He reached out a hand to clasp Rick's shoulder, and for a second Rick felt sure he could almost feel it.

Shane rose.

"No, wait."

There was a new ache in Rick's heart now – a longing to see his child. To keep her safe. To do right by those she'd lost. But…

"I'm sorry it had to be my world and not yours."

Shane paused, his back to Rick. Shining bright in the last dregs of sunset.

"No you're not. And don't try to be. Every second you waste thinking you should be dead is a second you waste the fact that I'm not alive."

The sunlight faded, and Shane went with it.

.-.

Rick fell back against the nearest wall, his mind filled with thoughts. Memories. The future. The cries of his baby daughter ringing through his mind like chimes harkening in a new age.

A time of hope. Maybe he _could _survive this.

A phone rang.


End file.
